all
the pain she knew the thought would give her brother, it seemed
possible--nay best and wisest, for her and Rose to go away.

"However, we must wait a while; we must have patience. Things may
adjust themselves in a way that I cannot see just now."

In the lesson, which with tears and prayers and a good-will Graeme had
set herself to learn, she had got no farther than this, "We must wait--
we must have patience." And she had more cause to be content with the
progress she had made than she thought; for, amid all the cures for the
ills of life, which wisdom remembers, and which folly forgets, what
better, what more effectual than "patient waiting?"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

"Are you quite sure that you are glad, Graeme."

"I am very glad, Will. Why should you doubt it? You know I have not so
heartsome a way of showing my delight as Rosie has."

"No. I don't know any such thing. I can't be quite glad myself, till I
am sure that you are glad, too."

"Well, you may be quite sure, Will. It is only my old perverse way of
looking first at the dark side of things, and this matter has a dark
side. It will seem less like home than ever when you are gone, Will."

"Less like home than ever!" repeated Will. "Why, Graeme, that sounds as
if you were not quite contented with the state of affairs."

"Does it?" said Graeme, laughing, but not pleasantly.

"But, Graeme, everything has turned out better than we expected. Fanny
is very nice, and--"

"Yes, indeed," said Graeme, heartily. "Everything has turned out much
better than we used to fear. I remember the time when I was quite
afraid of Fanny and her fine house--my old perversity, you see."

"I remember," said Will, gravely.

"I was quite morbid on the subject, at one time. Mamma Grove was a
perfect night-mare to me. And really, she is well! she is not a very
formidable person, after all."

"Well, on the whole, I think we could dispense with mamma Grove," said
Will, with a shrug.

"Oh! that is because she is down upon you in the matter of Master Tom.
You will have to take him, Will."

"Of course. But then, I would do a great deal more than that for
Fanny's brother, without all this talk."

"But then, without `all this talk,' as you call it, you might not have
discovered that the favour is done you, nor that the letter to her
English friend will more than compensate you, for going fifty miles out
of your way for the boy."

"Oh! well, it is her wa